“Tell me again why we can’t call Joe?” I hissed.
“Because Joe won’t give two figs.”
My eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
She turned toward me, disgust painted all over her face. “I didn’t just ask you not to call him on account of Billy Jack. My aunt called the sheriff’s department last night to file a missing persons report. They won’t do anything.”
“Why not?”
“They say she has a history of taking off. Aunt Thelma tried to tell them that it’s different this time, that she’s never disappeared for three days before, but they wouldn’t listen. So it’s up to me to find her.”
“Neely Kate,” I groaned. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I would have helped you.”
“After the whole thing with the bank robbers and Skeeter . . .” She gave me an apologetic smile. “Well, you got so deep last time that I wasn’t sure you’d be open to it.”
“We’re best friends, Neely Kate. Where you go, I go.”
“Thank you.” She gave me a quick hug. “Now all you need to do is stay back on the other side of the road. I’ll go knock on the door to see if she’s here.”
“If you think I’m gonna do that, you’re as crazy as Billy Jack on a bender.” I looped my arm through hers. “Though I suspect your story about your car breaking down was a crock of crap, and you want me here for more than a getaway driver.”
She squeezed my arm. “You’re the best friend a girl could ever hope to have.”
“I’m gonna wait until we’re on our way home to decide if I’m gonna return the sentiment.” I winked. “So what’s your plan?”
“Billy Jack and I have never had bad blood, so I’m not worried about him. As long as he’s semi-sober.”
“And if he’s drunk as a skunk?”
“Run.”
I supposed it was as good of a plan as any, given the circumstances. “At least he doesn’t have any dogs,” I muttered as we followed the trampled path to the trailer through a forest of weeds.
“Oh, he does. They’re just in the house.”
So much for that pipe dream. I glanced around. “Do you see your cousin’s car anywhere?”
She frowned. “No. But that doesn’t mean anything. I think it got repossessed.”
“But you don’t know?”
“No. I was hoping Billy Jack could tell us.”
We stopped on the six-foot-by-six-foot porch, which appeared fairly new and was covered by a roof. The whole structure was in better shape than the rest of the trailer combined, even though empty beer cans had been shoved into a corner.
Neely Kate knocked on the front door and stood back, ready to make a getaway if necessary.
A bunch of yipping broke loose inside, and I cast a sideways glance at her while still trying to watch the door. “What is that?”
“Billy Jack’s dogs. He breeds Chihuahuas.”
“You’re kidding.”
Her nose scrunched up. “Why would I be kidding?”
The door started to open, and I tensed as a guy’s face poked around the corner. “Whaddaya want?”
My best friend lifted her chin. “Billy Jack? It’s Neely Kate, Dolly Parton’s cousin.”
The door opened wider, and five white Chihuahuas rushed out the crack and started jumping up on our legs.
He stood in the space, wearing a white wife-beater T-shirt and a pair of jeans, holding a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon in his hand. Several days’ growth of beard covered his face, and his eyes were bloodshot. “Whaddaya want?” he repeated.
“I want to talk to Dolly. Where is she?”
One of the Chihuahuas pressed against my leg and started humping. Horrified, I gave my leg a tiny shake, but he just wrapped his front legs around my shin. The other four ran around Neely Kate and me like Indians circling a wagon train in an old Western.
Billy Jack looked at Neely Kate as though she was a horde of ants eating his chocolate cake. “How would I know where she is?”
Anger filled Neely Kate’s voice. “Because the last time anyone talked to her was when she was with you.”
The dog on my leg was still going to town, so I gave a harder shake, but he hung on for dear life.
He laughed, but it was a humorless sound. “Well, she ain’t here.”
She moved to the door. “Then you won’t mind me comin’ in and lookin’ around.” She shoved it open with the palm of her hand, and Billy Jack stumbled out of the way.
I stomped my foot hard, finally managing to dislodge the dog before I hurried inside after Neely Kate.
“Well come on in, then,” he sneered, downing the beer as we walked past him.
“Don’t mind if we do,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet.
I sent up a little prayer that the dogs would stay outside, but they all came in, the last one barely making it through the crack before Billy Jack slammed the door shut.